A Crimson Ribbon

A scrap of deep red ribbon caught on an open windowsill caught my eye as the morning mist drifted off the brickwork. It was discarded fabric, frayed along the edge, but bold. Sheathing one sai behind my belt, I sliced the ribbon into a clean strip with the prong of my steel blade. Twisting the cloth around my brow, I secured the knot tight against my dark hair, letting the ends trail in the sharp morning air. Now I am fully armed, focused, and ready for whatever lurks below.